


Friday Night, 10:00 PM

by kittenwrath



Series: Gruff but Tender [4]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Intoxication, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenwrath/pseuds/kittenwrath
Summary: @rick-all-night-long requested on Tumblr:How about this: Rick goes to the same bar every Friday night and tries to pick up chicks. While he sits at the bar, defeated and disheartened, he notices a girl. He watches as she turns down very single man that tries to get her attention. This goes on for weeks, every Friday night. Rick wonders if she ever notices him since they’re there at the same time.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Original Female Character(s), Rick Sanchez/Reader
Series: Gruff but Tender [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603009
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Friday Night, 10:00 PM

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: This story was originally contained in a large Rick fic archive post called "Gruff but Tender". That large archive post has been deleted and all the stories have been re-posted separately. Thanks!

Why do I keep coming to this stupid bar? And, why do I ask myself this same question every week? Friday night – 10:00 pm. The same crowd of losers. Only this time, I realize that – without a shadow of a doubt – I’m one of them. I keep telling myself that _this week_ , I’ll say yes to someone. _This week_ , I’ll drop my guard and damn the consequences. _This week_ , I’ll finally have some fun. But, _this week_ always turns in to _next week_. And so on, and so on.

At first, most of them showed an interest. But, as time wore on, they learned that the girl sitting at the end of the bar every Friday night was a tease. She took their drinks and even flirted a little, but then she’d shut them down. Now, she had no suitors to speak of and sat on her perch alone. In fact, the only face in the bar that hadn’t made a move over the seemingly endless string of weeks was the older gentleman in a lab coat who always took the corner booth with a pitcher and one glass.

I chance a glance in the direction of that corner booth and, sure enough, there he sits. Only this time, there are several empty shot glasses to accompany his pitcher and he has a hard scowl on his face as if someone has just asked for his car keys. Since he seems completely zoned out, I let my eyes linger on the man. He’s unlike any other person in this bar and I suddenly feel the need to talk to him. The tightness in my chest and the twitchy feeling in my legs persists until I’m just about to hop off the stool and make a fool of myself. Then, he looks at me.

Immediately, our eyes lock and I feel my breath hitch in my throat. _His_ eyes have an intense quality that I can’t seem to place and he continues to bore his gaze into mine until I feel like my heart may pound through my ribs. When he stands from the booth – swaying a little – and begins to stumble toward me, I finally have the mental capacity to look away and stare down at my hands awkwardly. Out of my peripheral vision, I see him steadily approaching – successfully plowing through the hordes of clustered bodies in his beeline toward my self imposed pedestal. When he’s close enough to place his hand on the bar right next to me, I turn my head in the opposite direction in an attempt to play coy, as if it’s worked a million times before.

“Hey – heyy there, baby,” the man says in the most lecherous voice I could have ever imagined. I can feel the warm puffs of his breath washing over the skin of my bare shoulder and I begin to wonder if I finally have the courage. “Don’t act – pretend you weren’t just – j-just checkin’ me out,” he says, trailing his long, slender fingers from wrist to elbow of the arm I have resting on the bar. I give him a cursory glance, but say nothing.

“I-I-I see you in here every Friday and this – tonight’s the first time you – uh – you’ve noticed me.” His words are slightly slurred but that’s to be expected considering the collection of shot glasses gracing his table.

“That’s not true,” I reply, finally looking at him fully. His eyes are bloodshot and there’s a thin line of drool running from the corner of his mouth to his chin. He’s much drunker than I had previously guessed and I need to do some catching up. Motioning toward the bartender, I ask the man, “What are you drinking?”

“Vodka,” he replies, trailing his fingers up my forearm once more.

“Four shots of vodka for me and two for him,” I order, when the bartender finally comes our way.

“Whoa, baby,” he leans in to whisper in my ear. “You – you’re a wild one, huh?”

“Let’s hope so,” I quip, gulping all four shots within the span of fifteen seconds.

\----------

I wake up in a place I don’t recognize – a tiny room that’s completely dark save for a small table lamp in the far upper right corner and as my eyes adjust, something shifts next to me. Startled, I flinch away and pull the sheet up to my chest. After several seconds, I’m able to determine that I’m nude, in a very small bed with a stranger. And, I have no memory of what had obviously transpired. Again, the stranger shifts next to me and I pull my legs up to my chest. I can’t seem to spot my clothing in the dimly lit room and I begin to panic.

“Wha – what the fuck?” a gravelly voice croaks as the body shifts again, rolling in my direction. As soon as I see the face, the memory of this man in the bar slams home and I feel a roll of nausea in my gut.

“Oh, shit. That’s right,” the man says, scrubbing a large hand down his face before abruptly getting up from the bed that more so resembles a cot. He seems to be completely clothed minus the signature lab coat I’d seen him in week after week and I pinch my brow in confusion.

“Um –” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“Don’t worry, babe. No – nothing happened. You were so fuckin’ shit faced when we left the bar, you passed – blacked out before I – uh – I could get your panties off.” He pulls a chair out from under a small table and picks up a bundle of clothing, tossing it in my direction as I lift the sheet to confirm his story. Yep, panties still on.

“I-I-I’ll be back in a few minutes” he says, casually strolling through the door of the tiny room before shutting it securely behind him.

Now alone, I practically jump from the cot and hastily redress. Taking stock of my body, I notice that I have no new bruises, love bites, or hickeys and my pussy feels just as normal as ever – no next day, freshly fucked, delicious ache to speak of. On one hand, this is a relief. On the other, it’s a fucking bummer. My entire intent was to fuck this mystery man until I shattered one of his hips – which is entirely plausible considering his obvious advanced age. But, he had been a gentleman and stopped when he realized I had morphed into an empty shell. And, now I honestly didn’t know how to feel other than completely humiliated and a little disappointed.

Ripping me from my inner world, the man re-enters the room and hands me a glass of water and what I assume are two aspirin. His observation that I’m hungover couldn’t be more correct and I gulp down the water and pills while willing the dreadful pounding in my head to cease. Once I finish, he takes the glass from my hand, sits it on the nearby table and gestures for me to follow. Not knowing what to expect, I keep close on his heels as he takes me past a living room where several people are sitting, watching television. Of course, they all turn just in time to witness my walk of shame and I silently wish to dissolve into thin air as we pass through to a kitchen that leads to a garage.

“What the hell is that?” I ask, pointing to the pile of junk that vaguely resembles a UFO.

“It – it’s my flying vehicle, baby. Hop in.”

I scoff at him and shake my head. Flying vehicle? Does he think I’m a moron? When I refuse to make a move, he starts pushing me towards it and opens one of the doors. I shoot him another wary look but climb inside, nonetheless, now fascinated. And, when he climbs in the opposite side, starts the contraption up and literally begins _flying_ into the fucking air, I scream and clutch the dashboard in front of me.

“Jesus Christ!” he shouts through booming laughter. “You – you seriously don’t remember riding in this on the way here?”

“NO!” I shout, looking toward him as he continues to laugh so hard there are tears forming in his eyes.

“Shit – ah fuck – y-you’re cute when you panic,” he says, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand while the other clutches the steering wheel.

“Where you taking me?” I’m finally regaining control of myself and need to try to save face in front of this mystery man who is much more mysterious than I initially gave him credit for.

“Do you – uh – do you even remember my name?” he counters, narrowing his eyes in my direction. I just blush and groan in response and he laughs again. “It’s Rick. And – and – and I figure I owe you breakfast after – for all the shots you bought last night.”

_**The End.** _


End file.
